


Spoilers

by Medie



Category: Smallville
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-13
Updated: 2011-01-13
Packaged: 2017-10-14 17:22:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/151659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Medie/pseuds/Medie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clark can't say what's weirder: meeting a future version of your boyfriend, tending to the future version of yourself, or not really finding anything weird about it all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spoilers

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shopfront](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shopfront/gifts).



She watches herself die in high definition. The images play across a crystal screen in sharp relief, the blood on her skin just a shade darker than the cape draping her shoulders, the black of her hair spilling over the white stone of the city hall steps with the shadow of her killer looming over it all.

"Doomsday."

The word is an echo in the chamber. That it's Oliver's voice, older and weary, provides an impact more painful than any blow. That he entered without her realizing it has her casting a suspicious look toward the computer.

The AI is mysteriously silent.

"Don't blame him," Oliver says, still in shadow. "He's only doing what you told him to do."

"I?"

"Well, a version of you."

"And what, precisely, did that version of me tell him?" Clark takes a step forward, narrowing her eyes with suspicion and concentration. Under her enhanced scrutiny, the shadows peel away to reveal him. Older, with a goatee and sad, tired eyes, yes, but it's _Ollie_.

"To listen to me," he says, moving forward. "It was the only way."

"The only way to what?"

He exhales. "Keep you alive."

Clark's gaze goes back to the screen and the older her crumpled in a heap. "After that."

"Yeah."

When she turns back, Ollie's standing before her. He's in a stripped down version of his gear. Gear stained red with blood. She lifts a hand, hesitant, but he catches it.

"It's not mine."

She swallows hard. "It's mine."

"You weren't supposed to be here," he says, smiling sadly. "We never wanted to involve you in this. I told the AI to take us back to a time when you were in Smallville. I guess I should have been more specific."

"Or things are changing," she says, shrugging. She's read enough of her parents' research to have a partial handle on the concept. "Once you entered the past, that became a possibility."

He chuckles. "Point taken."

"I just walked into an old argument, didn't I?" she says, lips curving into a wry smile. She's not sure what part of this she finds more ironic. The part where she's talking to a future version of Oliver, the part where a future version of herself is somewhere in the Fortress, or the part where she really isn't at all surprised by this.

"Sort of," Oliver says. "You can be a real pain in the ass sometimes."

She snorts.

"Yeah," he grins, "I know. She does that too." He looks at her, eye to eye still (and she doesn't know why she thinks it should be any different, they're both adults now), and his gaze gentles. " _Clark_."

For a moment, she leans toward him, there's something about the plea that she can't refuse. His pain and her fear; both so tangible she can feel the pull drawing them together.

Until she lays a hand on his chest, gentle but firm, and lets her smile fade. "Where is she?"

Clark can't say what's weirder: meeting a future version of your boyfriend, tending to the future version of yourself, or not really finding anything weird about it all. That last one wins, she suspects, because she still doesn't. Other than the obvious concerns—how she ended up that way, this Doomsday of Oliver's reference—she's not at all bothered by this.

"My family crest?"

The uniform is a torn, tattered wreck of fabric, but the insignia remains clear, if slightly blood-spattered. She looks from it to the bruised woman lying nearly naked before her. "I fly around every day with the House of El plastered across my chest?"

Ollie bends, brushing a kiss over the future Clark's forehead. His fingers trace the curve of her cheek reverently. "Yep. They think it's an S."

"Oh god."

His gaze lifts, flicks to her, and she can hear it before he says it. "Yeah, Superwoman. You might want to get used to that."

"Just tell me I didn't choose it because it's _awful_." Clark's tempted to throw the uniform away, but she folds it instead. The AI and its robots can make something of it later.

"You didn't," he assures. "You also got used to it."

"Did not," she says, stubborn. "I just pretended to."

Oliver laughs. "God, two of you, what am I going to do now?" This is said to the comatose woman. He breathes deep on not receiving an answer and presses his face against her shoulder.

She gives him a minute then tugs him away. "I need to get her into the chamber."

He doesn't argue and she lets him stand, watchful, as she manipulates the controls. The tube forms around the future her and then slowly fills with liquid.

"I've never used this," she says, conversational, "but the AI swears it will help."

"It will," his voice is barely audible. To a human, perhaps, it wouldn't be. "You've used it on other people before."

"Tell me?" she asks.

He does and, maybe, she hates him for it.

When she's finished, seen them both situated, she leaves, saying "The AI will call me if you need anything," before she flees.

She can't call it anything else. She runs. Rushing out without giving him a chance to respond.

He doesn't blame her. At least, she doesn't think that he does. Can't look at them for another second. Home is a quick flight away and she pushes it to get there. Oliver's in the kitchen when she does. Her Oliver. The younger, fresh-faced version with none of the other's sadness.

She looks at him and thinks of telling him the truth. Of the monster that's coming, lurking out there somewhere, another inheritance from a dead world she'll never stop mourning.

She doesn't. She keeps a lot from him that she probably shouldn't. This one, she thinks, she should. It's Oliver. He can't help but get involved and if she's going to stop Doomsday before this starts, she needs him out of the way.

"Hey," he says, looking a little guilty. "Sorry I let myself in, but, uh, I wanted to apologize for earlier."

For a moment, she doesn't remember what he means. "Oh, right," she says, realizing. "The fight."

Yes, the fight. The latest in a long line. The eternal argument over her powers and her intentions toward using them.

She smiles. "I forgot." Reaching out, Clark tugs him into her arms, lets him wrap his around her. "You remember the day we met?"

"You mean when I made a complete idiot out of myself with that invitation to Lex's party?"

"Yeah, that one," she brushes a kiss over his lips. "When you tried to use half-naked workouts as a bribe."

"Tried?" he huffs. "You went."

"I was already invited." She leans back against the kitchen counter and he follows. "Not my point though."

"No?"

"Nope," she brushes her fingertips over his shoulders, tracing circles at the nape of his neck. "I was just thinking - if we'd known then what was coming, would it have been the same?"

"No," he says, eyes dancing. "I'd've proposed marriage instead. Mom always wanted me to marry an alien princess."

Clark kisses him. She could argue the point, but with every blink of her eyelashes, she sees that final blow descend.

She needs things to be different. The world's depending on it and, whether he knows it or not, so is Ollie.

She can't let either of them down.


End file.
